


The Art of Proposal

by PompousPickle



Category: Metal Gear
Genre: Dry Humping, Kaz just wants to be an angry workaholic in peace tbh, M/M, Pre Phantom Pain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-30
Updated: 2015-12-30
Packaged: 2018-05-10 11:26:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5584060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PompousPickle/pseuds/PompousPickle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ocelot has a way when it comes to getting his way. [Takes place in the nine year gap before The Phantom Pain]</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Art of Proposal

Kazuhira Miller seemed to be married to his desk these days. Without the Boss to pull him around, he spent a lot of his time reviewing paperwork, recording notes, and making phone calls. The tried not to tell himself that it was a distraction. He pushed forward blindly. This was his dream. This was Motherbase. This was what he worked hard to achieved. This was what _they_ worked hard to achieve.

He glanced at a folder on the corner of the desk. His hand hovered above the folder, feeling the barest touch of the paper below his fingertips. He lowered his hand, pulled it closer, and took a slow breath. Silently, he cursed himself for his trepidation. He was stronger than this.

God he was so much better than this.

“Do you ever leave this room?”

The sound of spurs came before the door swung open unapologetically, hitting the back of the wall with a loud crack. “Do you ever knock?”  He shoved the folder back to the edge, content to forget about it while Ocelot strode in with a new pack of paperwork.

“Maybe I could get outside more if you started doing some of the leg work,” Miller then added, all too casually as he grabbed the papers from the other man. He flipped through them briefly. Mostly financial documents and reports from their R&D department. It was nothing compared what it had been when the Boss is around, but it still functioned. In the end, nothing was quite as it was when the Boss was around.

And yet he was still there.

“You’ve got a mind for business, Miller. Might as well put it to use.” Kaz partly expected Ocelot to see himself out. But he supposed he knew the man better than that. Three years working with him and he should have known that if Ocelot only wanted to deliver some paper and leave, he would have sent one of his unit to take care of it.

Rather, the man slid onto the desk in front of him, propping his feet up on the arm of Miller’s chair. The other man glanced down at the ridiculous cowboy boots, complete with spurs chiming as he made himself comfortable on top of the commander’s desk. Kaz let his eyes linger upwards, scanning from the boots up towards Ocelot’s face, where the man was as smug as ever.

Ocelot adjusted his scarf, showing the skin of his neck and chest for Miller to see. His skin was pale, flecked with bruises and red marks from previous nights, and Ocelot knew too well that Miller was looking. Of course, he would deny that he let his eyes linger there for long. It was a common game they played. The bickering, the teasing, the flirting, the anger, the frustration. All prelude to another act, one that Ocelot seemed far more interested in than watching Miller go through the statistics of the new recruits.  “Like what you see Miller?”

“I like what’s underneath it a lot more,” Kaz said with a low growl, sitting upward in his chair and leaning towards Ocelot. The other man raised an eyebrow in interest, his smirk growing wider. However, Kaz only grabbed for another stack of papers. “My desk,” the commander clarified. “I believe you personally saw to it that I would be busy this evening. I have work to do.”

“Then I’ll be going,” Ocelot said with absolutely no effort to move from his position. “As soon as you sign off on this so I can take it to Base Development.”

With that, he pulled another document from inside of his coat. Several pages stapled together, bent and wrinkled from the journey inside of Ocelot’s trench. He slid it across the desk, not bothering to hand it to the commander despite the lack of distance between them. Kaz leaned over and grabbed the papers, further closing their proximity.

“A project proposal?” Miller raised an eyebrow from under his glasses, glancing at the other man from over the lenses.

“Take a look. I can wait.”

The tone in Ocelot’s voice alone was enough motivation for Miller to throw the proposal out immediately. However, he owed the man a level of fairness. The two of them had come this far in rebuilding Motherbase, even if too often it felt as though Kaz was doing all of the work. Ocelot had still proven his usefulness more than once. So  Kaz looked down and read through the first page of the proposal.

“An expansion for the interrogation room?” Miller felt his eyebrow rise again. In truth, it wasn’t unreasonable, and certainly doable with their current resources. But there were better things that they could be pushing towards with their current budget. This was a military base, after all, not some dungeon designed to cater to Ocelot’s perverse hobbies. “Out of the question.”

“Just read it.” Ocelot punctuated his sentence by moving his left foot onto Kaz’s lap, as though nudging him into action. However, even as Kaz rolled his eyes and turned the page, he didn’t move it. Miller scoffed, deciding to simply ignore Ocelot and try to read the proposal so he could reject it quickly and get the man out of his office.

Halfway through the abstract, Kaz realized that Ocelot wasn’t going to make ignoring him easy. The other man had pushed himself forward a little on the desk, now teetering on the edge. His feet came further up the chair for balance, and consequently, further up Kaz’s lap. However, the commander did not spare the man a single glance before continuing to leaf through the pages.

By the time Miller had reached the science and cost estimates of one-way mirrors, Ocelot’s foot had made his way to the other man’s crotch. Miller blinked up in surprise, a small sound stuttering out of his mouth. He slid his chair backwards on reflex, only for the chair to hit the wall behind him. He soon realized he had no easy escape from Ocelot, who was leaning back on his hands and casually staring at the office ceiling. Kaz opened his mouth to shoo the man out of the office for good. But as soon as he did, the boot moved, applying the lightest of pressure to Miller’s crotch. Ocelot twisted the boot, allowing for enough friction to cause interest in the commander’s lower regions.

“G-getting the materials for this kind of glass would be all but impossible given our current positon,” Miller coughed out, the words sounding as surprised and as strained as he felt. Still, he knew that there was no reason to lose composure. This was a game. Same as everything Ocelot did. And Kaz was good at games.

“It’s been addressed. Keep reading.” Ocelot twisted his foot again, this time moving the pressure in small circles. He tilted his head a little, listening for any kind of sign that he was affecting Miller. Kaz couldn’t deny what the friction was doing to him, but he knew that he wasn’t going to give Ocelot any satisfaction by moaning or sighing.

Instead, he turned back to the document, flipping to the next page, covering the import costs of thin aluminum film and how to get the most of the proposed budget. Kaz knew the math on the page added up, on some level. But he wanted to run the numbers over again, just to be sure. He did the figures in his head, taking each line and calculating and comparing.

However, the numbers were becoming hard to see. The figures were dancing on the page as Ocelot continued his ministrations. He changed the pressure expertly, as though noticing when Kaz was trying his hardest to focus. When Miller attempted to focus his eyes on the customs chart, Ocelot stepped down with just enough force, grinding his boot into Kaz’s crotch, the weight and movement registering at full force even under the thick khakis. 

Despite himself, Miller felt himself grunt. He placed his right hand on top of Ocelot’s leg, contemplating moving it. He looked up at the other man, who was smirking at him, all-too knowingly. He held up and pen, spinning it between his fingers and raising his eyes in a small question. Miller refused the offer to forfeit their little game, removing his hand and going back to the paper. If Ocelot wanted to make this difficult for the both of them, so be it.

Ocelot pressed his foot again as Miller returned to his task, still spinning the pen between his fingers. Miller could just see it out of the corner of his eye, as though the man were completely bored. Kaz tried to scoff, tried to make some kind of remark, tried to do _anything_ that didn’t involve leaning back in his chair to give Ocelot more leverage.

But that’s exactly what he did anyway.

Miller was five pages in before it occurred to him that he wasn’t registering the words on the page. The moment he read them was the moment they disappeared in his mind, lost to the pleasure of Ocelot’s constant attention. He was fully hard now, unable to stop the blood rushing south. Kaz was ashamed of himself, on some level. But on the other, he couldn’t help but revel in Ocelot’s undivided attention, and float in his constant cloud of arousal.

“The expansion would only take a few months, at most,” Ocelot said. Kaz glanced at him from over the paper, words disappearing as he let himself sink deeper. The bastard was still spinning the pen between his hand, still grinning smugly, and still working diligently at Kaz’s crotch.

“Hmmm,” Kaz agreed for a moment, letting the words sink in. He leaned back and closed his eyes, letting himself sigh for just a moment, _enjoy_ for just a moment, before regaining himself just a little. “You’d have to go without…interrogating anyone for those months. Do you really think you can restrain yourself? I know how you can be _insatiable_.”

The pen faltered for a second, and Kaz basked in the heavy swallow Ocelot gave him. “You’ll find I have a remarkable amount of restraint.”

Kaz returned his eyes to the paper, flipping the page before finishing the one he was on. “As much is evident,” he said, as dryly as he could when someone was working so thoroughly at his private parts.

Within moments, Ocelot’s foot stopped moving entirely. Kaz pretended not to notice, spreading out his legs a little and leafing over to the next page. He read over the expansion and construction plans, covering the manpower needed for the intended plans. He didn’t dare look up at Ocelot, or give any sign that he wanted the man to continue. He shifted his body a little, just enough to continue the friction. It worked well enough, keeping him aroused as he subtly continued to move his body. He let out a small sigh, rocking his hips once into the foot above him, forgetting his shame if only for a brief moment. Ocelot rewarded him by grinding down, causing Kaz to grind directly into the boot.

Kaz was having a harder and harder time containing himself and they both knew it. He flipped to a new page, if only to keep up the façade of reading as he shifted and moved his body back and forth. He resigned himself into creating his own pace, effectively grinding himself on the spy’s foot. It was all he could do to continue the pace and let himself ride closer and closure to release, all the while burying his face into the document and desperately try to look like he was reading.

Ocelot had been inching closer and closer, now at the edge of the desk with his knees bent, leaning over, close enough to touch. Kaz managed not to notice until he felt a pair of gloved hands through his hair, pulling his head back and forcing the man to look at Ocelot from over his sunglasses. Kaz struggled to hold back a small, strangled moan. “Th…thought you wanted me to read this.”

The other man moved himself forward, bringing his foot down and in between Kaz’s legs. His pressed his shin against his crotch, which was forming a small wet spot on the outside of his pants. This allowed the man more space to grind. Kaz knew he would give himself hell for this later, humping the other man’s leg like some kind of horny dog. But when Ocelot then moved his head down to start nipping and licking at his ear, Miller found that he couldn’t bring himself to care.

“I said I needed you to sign for it, Commander,” Ocelot responded, mumbling into Kaz’s neck before sinking his tongue and teeth into the flesh there. Kaz distantly noted that Ocelot was reaching backwards on the desk, grabbing something before bringing his arm forward. He lifted Kaz’s hand into his own, clasping Miller’s fingers around the metal pen, warmed from being in Ocelot’s hands for so long.

Kaz hung his head back, letting out a long sigh. “Go to hell,” he finally grumbled out, sweat forming on his face as his climax became more and more imminent.

“If you insist.” Ocelot removed himself from Kaz entirely, backing off and sliding off of the desk. He left a small trail of papers in his wake, with several documents sliding to the floor. Miller couldn’t bring himself to care however, watching with still-lidded eyes as Ocelot straightened himself out and dusted off his coat. He paused for a quick moment to look at Kaz, as though hoping the man would stop him, or perhaps beg him to finish.

But Miller had more pride than that. Or at the very least, he was able to scoop himself up and straighten himself out in his chair. His hard-on was nearly painful, blood still pulsing through his testicles and tightening all his other muscles. But he wasn’t so desperate to let Ocelot win, to reduce him to a simpering fool. “You’re dismissed, Ocelot,” Kaz said, praying the other man would ignore the desperate crack in his voice.

“Of course,” Ocelot smiled, far too knowingly. “I’ll be awaiting your final decision on the project,” he finally added, running his fingers through coarse hair and heading out the door. Kaz opened his mouth to retort, but the office was empty before he could fully think of something to say.

He took a long breath, closing his eyes and focusing himself. It seemed so absurd, to deny release when it was so close to him. But they both knew that this was only a part of the game. Ocelot also knew that Miller wouldn’t stay away for long. Before the end of the night, the Commander would find him, and they would continue their games again.

Miller let out his breath, opening his eyes and glancing at the Manilla folder at the edge of the desk. Without thinking, he grabbed for it, glancing over the basics of the medical files from Cyprus. Still no change in the vitals, as he expected. The Boss’s condition was steady, but still not steady enough for visitors. There was no telling when he’d wake up. If he’d ever wake up.

Kaz adjusted himself in his pants as his erection finally waned down completely. He couldn’t help but think about what the Boss would think of him, grinding himself on another man’s boot as though it were his last reprieve on Earth. He liked to think he would be jealous. That he would grab for Kaz and shove him against the desk and give him a real reason to beg and plead mindlessly. He liked to think that the man would say something, want something, _do_ something. Really, he’d settle for seeing him just one more time. 

He closed the folder and put it back on the desk, gently and without malice. It was funny how despite his frustrations with the spy, Ocelot made it so much easier to look at those reports. He pushed the anger away, if only a little bit. Gave the commander something else to think of, to lament about, and-though he’d never admit it- to enjoy. Despite himself, Kaz was healing from the pain of losing it all. Motherbase was rebuilding. His dreams slowly resurfacing after being buried under fire and smoke.

 

 Kaz drummed the pen Ocelot had left him with against the desk, only then realizing that he was still hanging onto it. And distantly, he thought that maybe, he was finally moving on.  

He grunted, chasing away the thought as quickly as it came. He glanced down at the pen and then over at the project proposal, sitting on the desk, crumbled and slightly moist with sweat from Miller’s palms. “Disgusting,” he muttered to himself, taking the pen and signing the last page of the document for approval.  


End file.
